


The Long Walk

by katie_elizabeth



Series: Filling in the Blanks [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Apologies, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:01:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22152937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katie_elizabeth/pseuds/katie_elizabeth
Summary: After Geralt breaks his heart, Jaskier takes a long walk, and Geralt learns to apologize.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Filling in the Blanks [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1596382
Comments: 22
Kudos: 1012





	The Long Walk

**Author's Note:**

> New ship, new ship! I know this has probably been done a million times already in the past few weeks, but I couldn't not after having my heart crushed by episode 6.

He's been walking the same goddamned stretch of featureless road for going on six hours. The soles of his shoes are nearly worn through, his shoulder aches where the strap of his lute case digs into it, and he's worried that what little water he has won't last--especially if he keeps fucking crying. He wishes he could turn off his thoughts for once and hide from the gaping rift that has opened up deep within his core. But Jaskier has never been able to do that; when he was a boy, his mother always told him that he felt things too deeply. And now he hates that he can feel a ballad welling up in his mind, snatches of lyrics spilling over--another song about Geralt of fucking Rivia. _Garrotter, jury and--_

"I'll be singing about this prick until the day I drop dead, won't I?" he huffs, wiping a hand across his eyes, angry that he already knows the answer to that question. His fame is inexorably tied to Geralt, even if he were to discover how to extricate his heart from the matter.

A mile further on, he hears a rider approaching at a canter and averts his face, willing them to pass him by. But instead the hooves hesitate, slow, and finally come to a stop. "Jaskier."

"I don't need a ride, Geralt," he says through clenched teeth, refusing to look back at him. "I'm quite enjoying my walk and my feet don't hurt in the slightest, thank you. Good day."

A sigh. "Jaskier, that--"

He's babbling now, hoping the unceasing chatter will be enough to drive Geralt away, that he won't have to look up at him sitting atop his horse and pitying him. "And anyway, a walk through nature is cathartic for the creative mind. I'm working on a new jig called "The White Asshole," and--well, that might be a bit too uncouth now that I say it out loud. "The White Boor?" Or maybe--"

He hears Geralt dismounting a moment before a firm hand grips his shoulder. "Jaskier, stop. Please."

Jaskier spins around before he can think better of it, his lute giving a muffled gong as the case catches Geralt in the chest. "What do you want from me, Geralt?" he shouts, incredulous, grimacing at the hoarseness of his voice. "You told me you wish I weren't around, so I'm leaving. I'm doing as you asked, aren't I?"

The amber eyes locked onto his are inscrutable as ever, and Jaskier feels a wild madness bubbling up in his chest. He tries to bite back the words that want to come out but he's never been good at that, either, and walking away from Geralt on that cliff face today was the death rattle of his crumbling composure. "You've kept me on the hook for this long only to tell me that you never really wanted me. Then why am I here, Geralt? Why are _you_ here? Why did you kiss me that night after Yennefer saved me, and why the hell have you woken up next to me so many mornings since then? I know you don’t need anyone, Geralt, but I at least expected that all of that meant you wanted me around. I don't care if you love other people, fuck other people--God knows I fall in love with half the people I meet, and take half of them to bed--but I've followed you for years singing your praises because I thought that beneath your frankly brutish exterior, you must want me by your side. But since it's clear to me now that I've been nothing but an annoyance and a liability, please… Just leave me be."

The silence spirals out between them until Geralt finally drops his gaze, eyebrows knitting together. "What I said to you was cruel, Jaskier. I was upset with Yen and you were an easy target. Please, forgive me."

Callused fingertips press gently into Jaskier's forearm and he feels his rage deflating, slipping through his clutching fingers like sand and leaving him with only sadness and a pulsing headache behind his eyes. "Okay, Geralt, fine. You're forgiven. You don't have to worry about me anymore."

"Jaskier, I…" Geralt runs a hand over his face, frustrated when the words won't come. "I don't know how to just… say things the way you do. You're the first person I've had stay with me for more than a few days. Sometimes I get aggravated and I'm cruel to you; I know that. But I also killed a leshy on the way here and all I could think about was that you weren't there to sing about it."

Jaskier raises his eyebrows, looking around in concern. "A what?"

"Nevermind," Geralt sighs, resting his forehead against Jaskier's and closing his eyes. Jaskier thinks he should pull away, but instead his heart skips a beat at the proximity, at the coarse silver hair that falls against his cheek. "What I'm saying is… I was wrong. I'm sorry. I do want you, Jaskier. Maybe after this I can pick up a job near the coast… if you'll have me."

Geralt's kiss falls against his forehead, his neck, his mouth, and Jaskier smiles despite himself. "There now, that wasn't so hard to bite out, was it?"

"Hmm… Don’t push your luck," Geralt warns, huffing a laugh. His rough hand slides behind Jaskier's neck, pulling him closer to press their mouths together again, softly this time. Jaskier sinks into it, raises a hand to rasp his fingers across Geralt's stubbled cheek.

"We're in _the road_ , you dog," Jaskier chides after a few long moments, pulling against the muscled arms that have encircled his waist and laughing at the look Geralt sends his way. He quiets, running his thumb slowly along the cut of Geralt's jaw. "You really mean it though, Geralt? If you say yes, I will follow you to the ends of the Earth, and you'll have only yourself to blame."

The lack of hesitation that follows unleashes a swarm of butterflies in Jaskier's stomach. "I mean it."

"Okay," Jaskier nods, solemn. "Then we need to settle on some terms."

Geralt cocks a questioning eyebrow.

"First of all, I get kisses whenever I want--fine, I get kisses _more often_ ," Jaskier amends, rolling his eyes. "Secondly, I get to work on my song the whole way back to town."

"Hmm. You drive a hard bargain," Geralt intones before cracking a smile. "Acceptable. I hope I make it into some of your happy ballads someday, too."

"I think we'll get there," Jaskier airily replies, swinging himself awkwardly onto Roach's back. "Now get up here, Geralt. My feet are killing me." 


End file.
